At Her Most Bad Ass
by coldneverbotheredmeanyway
Summary: Female!Moist. Inspired by my experience playing Moist in a theatre production of 'Dr. Horrible'. Short scenes from Moist's life, focusing on her relationship with Doctor Horrible. Rated for language, tragedy, and safety.
1. The Dance and the Idea

Disclaimer: I do not own _Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog._ It belongs to Mr. Whedon. I make no profit off of this story.

Warning: None yet. (Really, really, super-mild language?)

Note: I'm not including a 'Moist meets Doctor Horrible' scene in this. If I do write that, it will likely be a separate fanfiction.

* * *

The important thing was that it _wasn't a date._ Billy and I were _not_ a couple. _Eww._ My best friend being my boyfriend? Totally gross.

But we _were_ the only two kids in our grade without dates to our very first school dance. So a decision had been made.

"I don't, you know, _like you,_ or anything. But do you want to come to the dance with me?" he'd asked. "As a friend?"

I stared at him blankly, wiping my sweaty palms on my blue jeans. "Sure. Who else is going to take me?" I paused to look down at my hands. _Dang._ Still wet. "Or you?" I added, looking back up at him.

That had been a week or so before. When we'd arrived at the dance, it quickly became obvious that going dateless would have been less embarrassing. First, they laugh, and the jeers come quickly after. 'Freaks in love', 'Perfectly lame for each other'. 'Sweaterella and prince geeky'.

Middle-schoolers kind of sucked at insults.

I ignored them. I was used to this sort of thing... We both were, but as I glanced to my side I could see a scowl on Billy's face. He hated it; being treated without respect. That those who were different got treated poorly. It was why society was so messed up, he always said.

Yeah, Billy had always been a weird one.

"Do you want to leave?" I asked him in a whisper. He shook his head.

"No, Ellen. That's letting them win."

"...Right." I didn't always understand Billy back then... I never always understood Billy, really... But when he got determined, I knew better than to try and change his mind. Even if we could have been back at my place playing video games. Oh, well.

It wasn't long before we'd settled in a pair of chairs off in a corner, far from everyone else. As the night went on, we could see we weren't the only ones being teased - There were the usual 'weird-but-not-as-weird-as-us' kids getting harassed, and then the couples. _Jeez._ 'He could do better', 'I can't believe she's holding _his_ hand'... People who were normally cool were suddenly total weirdoes if they went to the dance with someone outside of their social circles.

"That's why most people don't mix," Billy pointed out, "and the status quo will never change."I fiddled with my dress - yellow, totally gross, but mom had insisted that be the dress I get - not caring that it was riding up my legs a bit too much. "Billy, I'm not sure what that even means."

But Billy was off in Billy-World. His eyes were suddenly shining, his expression going from disgusted to excited in less than a second. "I bet I could make the status quo change. If I had more power." He turned to me, beaming widely. "Ellen, someday I'll have enough power to fix all the things that are wrong with the world."

"Power?" I echoed. We were middle-schoolers. Power seemed a little out of reach.

"It'll be in the hands of the freaks. And then the popular people - Who, you know, don't even _do anything_ -"

"They don't?"

"No, Ellen. Come on. Think about it. Who's popular in the world? Messed-up celebrities and crooked politicians. And _athletes_. Athletes! Who cares if we have baseball or not? I mean, _come on._"

I just stared on. Billy really wasn't a normal teenager.

"Now, those people, they'll be put in their place. Yeah. That's what I'm gonna do. Someday."

"How?" I asked, genuinely curious. It didn't sound like a bad idea, even if I didn't understand all of the reasons behind it. Billy bit his lip and looked at the floor.

"...I don't know yet."


	2. Call Me Moist

Disclaimer: I do not own _Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog._ It belongs to Mr. Whedon. I make no profit off of this story.

Warning: Shooooooort. :P

* * *

"Call me Moist now."

I hadn't known why he'd reacted to it like it was a big deal. I was still _me, _just with a different label. Ellen was a person name. Not a villain name. And even though I wasn't much of a villain, I figured I might as well have a handle. But to Billy, this was some big deal. I couldn't understand why for a long time. After all, when Billy became Doctor Horrible shortly after, he still was the same guy.

Sort of. Maybe I just wasn't looking closely enough. But, either way, as time went on, Doctor Horrible and Billy seemed to be more and more... Different. Not that they weren't the same person, but... Two very different sides of that person.

Me? I never really had much mercy. I liked my folks. I liked Billy. I had a few other villainous pals, and some of my dates were pretty okay. But generally, I didn't care much about people, either way.

But Billy, he _did._ Doctor Horrible? Not so much.

When I realized that, I realized a name could make a big difference. For other people. But for me? Not so much. I wasn't looking for a new identity or anything.

I just wanted people to call me Moist.


	3. An Evil Condiment

Disclaimer: I do not own _Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog._ It belongs to Mr. Whedon. I make no profit off of this story.

Warning: Also pretty short. And language. Fairly mild.

* * *

"Moist, you are _drowning_ your hot dog," Doc pointed out, leaning across the counter towards me. "In _my_ ketchup, I might add."

"I'll buy you more," I said, hitting the bottom of the ketchup bottle with the heel of my hand. Billy raised an eyebrow.

"No you won't, and you know it."

I smiled. "Yeah, you're right. But I'm thankful! You know, villainously," I added.

The Doctor, however, seemed to be over me stealing most of his ketchup and was instead staring at my hot dog with a look of confusion. "Why all that ketchup, anyway? I didn't think you liked it that much."

"Hey, ketchup is pretty evil. Very bad-ass for a condiment," I explained, nodding confidently as I continued to poor ketchup on what by now just appeared to be… A pile of ketchup.

"It is?"

"Yeah, it's like blood. Sort of. You know, it _looks_ like blood.""Thick blood," Doc commented dryly.

"Which makes it even more gross! And gross is pretty evil." I paused. "Well, okay, maybe it's not _that _evil. But gross and me do go together," I chuckled lightly.


End file.
